


How could you be that girl I knew?

by unforgetabELLE



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Ew Ethan, F/M, Non-superhero AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 07:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unforgetabELLE/pseuds/unforgetabELLE
Summary: Then he saw the source of the commotion. She walked through the smoke-filled room, her face shining ethereally like the actual moon through the haze of the club. No one spoke to her, but all eyes were watching Marinette as she walked in and he was struck by how she simultaneously looked like a completely different person and exactly the same as the girl he knew in lycee.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mari_Poppins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Poppins/gifts).



> Loosely inspired by Mako's Smoke filled room (I like the acoustic session version!)

Marinette layered on the deep red lipstick, meticulously filling in the outline of her lip liner and then blotting and repeating the process. Concentrating on the process of her makeup, she felt her heart start to beat more rhythmically. It was therapeutic, at the same time methodical and artful. She leaned back, surveying the result. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn a full-face of makeup, something the magazines had been keen to praise and scorn her for--depending on the week. She’d always been captivated by the skill that went into a perfect contour and immaculate brow, she just hadn’t the patience recently to create it for herself. Since her design career took off, she’d become used to dictating how others should look instead of worrying about her own appearance. Even with all the public events she’d had to do in the last year, she was usually too busy to go full-glam and would maybe dash on some eyeliner for the sake of appearances, but that was it. As much as she had enjoyed a bold lip in university, she hadn’t done it much lately. Part of her wondered if it was an attempt to attract less attention to herself or if it was a small act of rebellion to not give people what they expected of a person in her position. Whichever reason, as a result of her minimalistic makeup, she’d been criticized for looking like a little girl playing dress-up at more than one charity function. She knew she had a young-looking face even at 26, so she didn’t really pay it much mind and Ethan never seemed to be bothered by it...

She closed her eyes, a feeling welling up inside of her just thinking his name. She couldn’t tell what it was anymore. What it definitely wasn't, was sadness. Their relationship had been strained even before the scandal, and honestly, she wasn’t even that angry that he’d decided to have an affair. He’d been fun and interesting at first, drawing her in with his charisma, but then she found herself kind of stuck as his side piece, done with his immaturity but reluctant to break it off because of the spotlight it would put on her. Luckily, she finally got the push she needed to dump him. Because not only had he cheated, but he got caught. Not by her, but by the paparazzi. That was what really pissed her off. Now, because he couldn’t keep it in his pants, not only his face was plastered across every newspapers, but so was Marinette’s.

After a year together, he knew full-well how much she hated being in the public eye. He was a movie-star/philanthropist--a title he’d pompously given himself--and craved the attention just as much as she hated it. He’d claimed that was something he loved about her, that he knew they were together for the right reasons and not because she was grasping her fifteen minutes of fame. Yet, despite all his declarations of love and loyalty and his promises to keep her out of the spotlight as much as possible, they’d somehow landed here, with Ethan jetting off to god-knows where and leaving Marinette trying to dodge paparazzi following her for her ‘exclusive comment’ about the very public discovery of his infidelity. He’d claimed his escape from the city was for her benefit, that it would draw some of the attention away from her. She’d yet to see the success of this maneuver, and if he had something else planned, she didn’t care. She’d stopped returning his calls to find out. Persistent as he may be in apologizing for his transgressions--almost undoubtedly for the sake of his deteriorating public image--Marinette was done and wanted nothing more than to forget about him and get past the heavily photographed nightmare that he’d plunged her into. She’d practically been in hiding for the last month, moving all her things out of her apartment and into Alya’s flat in a much quieter neighborhood.

No, she didn’t care that he’d cheated. It proved he was an asshole, but he didn’t break her heart. That development more than anything convinced her that as much as she might have tried, her heart had just refused to love him. She wasn’t heartbroken, but she did want to be left alone. But she realized that her attempts to just live her life in peace were being interpreted by the media as devastation caused by Ethan’s wandering eyes...and other body parts. By making herself scarce, she’d made any photo or comment from her three times more valuable. She was being followed every time she left the apartment and she was done. So, she decided to make a very public appearance. As much as she hated attention, one night of it wouldn’t kill her if it meant putting this whole business to bed.

She stepped back from the mirror and regarded her reflection. Her face just slightly dewy, accented by a  strategically placed sparkle of highlighter across her high cheekbones and a sweep of chocolate brown eyeshadow that made her blue eyes appear even more vibrant. The makeup was simple and not too out of the ordinary from what she might do for a night out, but then there were her lips. Far bolder than she had worn in a while, they were stained a deep burgundy and lined to perfection. She smiled. Makeup may not be strictly necessary or something she did everyday, but Marinette couldn’t deny the impact of a bold lip color on her entire persona. She was strong, confident and beautiful, and it felt like the lipstick just made the world see that more clearly. She felt ready for battle.

She walked out of the bathroom, grabbing her clutch and rolling her eyes as Alya stood up and started to applaud her. Her friend knew that the high end club was the last place she wanted to be tonight and would almost certainly be swarming with paparazzi, but that was exactly what Marinette needed. She needed them to see her. See that there was no story, that she wasn’t some simpering girl heartbroken by some jerk that was honestly worth less than the price of admission to his movies. She needed them to recognize that and then she need them leave her the hell alone.

Kissing Alya on the cheek, she told her again that she’d be fine and to enjoy her date with Nino. Marinette locked the door behind her and strode over to the elevator, her heeled boots clicking determinedly with every step. The reflective doors closed behind her and she caught a full-length glimpse of herself in the mirror. Just because she didn’t play their game often, didn’t mean she couldn’t. The elevator dinged open, and she straightened her posture as she walked out the doors, daring anyone to call her a little heartbroken girl tonight.

 

~*~

Adrien swirled his glass of whiskey, trying to find patterns in the amber liquid and distract himself. He’d never loved the club scene, but was entertaining a visiting designer for his father. The young Italian _‘Call me Vinny_ ’ had quickly eschewed Adrien’s company for that of the first woman he’d met. Despite his preoccupation, Adrien knew he shouldn’t leave until he could officially close the tab. As he watched Vinny dance near the stage, he sighed realizing what a long night he was in for.

Raising two fingers, he signaled to the bartender for another. The woman smirked at him, astutely picking up on his situation in the magical way bartenders seemed to always be able to, and refilled Adrien’s glass.

He was sipping it pensively, weighing the pros and cons of just leaving the company credit card for the tab and hoping for the best, when a flash of blinking lights and shouts from the door caught his attention. He cringed automatically, recognizing the sound and sights of paparazzi before his brain even consciously named it. Then he saw the source of the commotion and he felt his heart flip painfully in his chest as he sat up in his seat. She walked through the smoke-filled room, her face shining ethereally like the actual moon through the haze of the club. No one spoke to her, but all eyes were watching Marinette as she walked in. To anyone else, it might look like she didn’t notice, but Adrien could see the stiffness in her shoulders, the deliberate steps of her gait, the determined flare in her eyes... She held her head high in confidence, but Adrien could just barely see the uncomfortable set of her mouth and was struck by how she simultaneously looked like a completely different person and exactly the same as the girl he knew in lycee.

He was surprised to see her here. From what he remembered, it wasn’t exactly her scene, but then, neither was it his. More so, he was surprised because he’d of course heard about what happened between her and the movie star. He shuddered with anger remembering what he’d read in the magazine Nino had shown him, but then he looked back at Marinette and knew no one could keep her down for long.

He and Marinette hadn’t spoken much since they both left for university, but not keeping in touch with her had always been one of his biggest regrets. Honestly, he only still talked to Nino, but his DJ friend often got news of Marinette through Alya. Over the years, Adrien loved getting bits and pieces of her life,feeling especially proud every time her design career reached a new level, but when he’d heard who she started dating he’d been shocked. They seemed like an odd pair, but more than that, he knew how uncomfortable Marinette was as the center of attention and couldn’t imagine her enjoying all the publicity that came with dating a famous person. Still, he devoured every picture of her the paparazzi posted, happier more than he had right to be every time she flaunted all expectations of who they thought she _should_ be and instead was just herself.

Watching her as she made her way towards the bar he realized that she hadn’t changed. Her dress hugged her figure and her dark lips stood out boldly against her pale face, but she was still absolutely the same woman as she’d been in all of those photos. He knew immediately that this was Marinette’s way of telling the world that she was confident in who she was, whether that was in jeans and a ponytail or in an evening gown with a full face of makeup. She knew who she was, and was not to be made _or broken_ by the action of a man. He smiled at the thought. She’d always been confident, but in lycee it’d been hidden behind her naturally clumsiness and stuttering. For all he knew, she was as clumsy as ever, but he found himself wanting to know for sure. He needed to know this woman he’d known as a girl.

Then she saw him. Her shoulders lost a bit of tension and her intense gaze softened in recognition as she smiled back at him and turned slightly in his direction. He immediately got up and pulled the seat out next to him, but she was intercepted halfway to him. Her face hardened immediately seeing the woman and Adrien saw her eyes flash in anger. He took a step towards her but stopped when he clearly heard Marinette voice respond to whatever the short blonde had said.

“Well, Melanie, I can’t say I agree. My relationship definitely had its pitfalls, and while perhaps my lack of support in _his_ public life was one of them, I would say the chief downfall was my ex-boyfriend's _wandering dick_. But I’ve moved on with my life, and I suggest the rest of you,” she made eye contact with the small posse of people who had gathered to overhear the conversation. “Do the same. Excuse me.”

Adrien stood with his mouth agape, in awe of the woman in front of him. Not a single hesitation or stutter. She lightly pushed Melanie aside and finished walking over, surprising him by throwing her arms around him.

“Adrien,” she breathed and he instinctively held her too, delighting more than words could describe to hear his name on her lips.

“Marinette,” he whispered in response, holding her a bit tighter before she pulled back, looking shocked by her own behavior, but she didn’t apologize. She smiled a bit sheepishly up at him as he led her over to the  seat he offered. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

He smiled, pleased beyond reason at her words as he called to bartender to get her a drink.

“Believe it or not, I was just thinking the same thing.”


	2. Part 2

“Believe it or not, I was just thinking the same thing, Mari.”

She blushed looking at him, marveling at how his simple presence had managed to put her so at ease. She’d gotten through her first confrontation of the night, and hopefully people would get the message and leave her alone. A part of her was happy for Adrien’s presence because it might keep away some undercover reporters, but she’d be lying if she said that was the main reason seeing him had affected her so much. She’d had the biggest crush on him in lycee, but she’d long since gotten over that--or at least, she thought she had.

Then she saw him, sitting at the bar with a goofy smile on his face as he looked at her. It was her favorite grin. Not his public smile, or modeling smile. It was the one he’d use when he cracked a horrible joke or when he laughed at one of their friends' antics. It was rarer than it should be, but she remembered how it made her knees weak every time she caught a glimpse of it. Age and the passage of time had changed nothing. If anything, that glimpse of the boy she knew, wrapped up in this older and more chiseled packaged was worse. She was taking breaths to slow the beat of her heart, but she felt calmer already just looking into his eyes. No longer a blur though the smokey room, his face was just as familiar to her as it had been when they were 18, as if she’d been looking at it every day for the last eight years.

She could still feel the eyes of the room on her, but it was easier to ignore them with Adrien to focus on.

“Still red wine?” He asked once he had gotten the bartender's attention and she blushed but then laughed remembering why he knew that.

“Oh my gosh, _why_ do you remember that?” She covered her face with her hands briefly before peeking back out at him.

“Umm it’s not everyday a cute girl pulls me drunkenly up to a roof to dance in the moonlight.” He smirked at her before turning to order a far-too-expensive malbec off the wine list. It arrived after a moment and she sipped it, focusing on the dry notes as they danced across her tongue instead of on the keen gaze of the man who she was clearly still much too attracted to and who had just called her _cute_. Granted, he’d called 18-year-old Marinette cute, but it still counted.

“I don’t remember you putting up much of a fight,” she recalled, quirking an eyebrow at him and his responding laugh was wistful and nostalgic.

“No,” he admitted after a moment. “No, but then I don’t think there’s much I’d say no to when it comes to you.”

Her jaw dropped. He was staring into his glass of whiskey while he spoke and Marinette watched as his brain caught up to what his mouth had just said and a look of horror passed across his face. He looked up at her, his neck straightening slowly and his eyes making contact with hers at the last second.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, and despite the low lighting, Marinette swore he was blushing. _Oh how the tables have turned_ , she fought to keep her smile to herself, but knowing the boy she’d desperately obsessed over in lycee _maybe_ had a tiny crush on her too was more life-affirming than she cared to admit.

“I’ve had too much whiskey,” he started to babble. “I am so sorry. That was uncalled for. You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want you to think I’m just hitting on you---I mean, we haven’t spoken in _years_ and that’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth? Really, I’m--”

“Well at least it wasn’t only me,” she gave him a coy smile as she went to take another sip of her wine. He’d brought up her recent relationship and for some reason she had the sudden uncontrollable urge to make one thing very clear. It was imperative that Adrien know that Ethan was most definitely the past. She’d wasted a year on him, and honestly was relieved it was behind her. If she could get the paparazzi off her back, and maybe change her phone number so Ethan stopped calling, she could finally move on from this nightmare she’d somehow let herself fall into.

“Oh?” Adrien asked, but he leaned back and rubbed the back of his head in a nervous gesture.

“Please!” She laughed, looking at his innocent expression. “I couldn’t form a coherent sentence around you for years! And when I do manage to really talk to you, it’s because I’m drunk off red wine.”

“I thought you hated me,” he admitted.

“What?” she practically shouted, and the bartender shot an amused look their way.

“You were cool, and everyone loved you, but you never talked to me like you did to everyone else. You were effervescent, but when you talked to me it was like you shut the light off. I always thought a part of you never trusted me after that first day,” Adrien shrugged, but Marinette continued to look at him, flabbergasted at how wrong he was. She had a very different recollection of that first day, and it included an umbrella that she’d kept practically as a sacred relic all through lycee. It was probably still tucked securely away in her room at her parents place, come to think of it.

“I finally felt like we were getting closer, and then we went off to college. It was honestly one of my biggest regrets not keeping in touch.” He looked at her so openly and she couldn't, and wouldn’t, stop her honest response.

“Me too,” she impulsively placed her hand on his and he smiled at her. Then the flash of cameras at the door caught her attention and she froze, seeing who they were aimed at. Adrien sat up straighter, the tender look in his eye vanishing as his posture became alert and he started to turn to follow her gaze.

“Don’t,” she cautioned, squeezing his hand tighter, and he refocused on her.

“What? What is it?”

“My ex,” she groaned, positioning herself so that Adrien blocked her from Ethan’s line of sight. “He found me.”

“He found you?” Adrien parroted diplomatically, but she could see a guarded look come to his eyes and she hated Ethan more than ever for ruining the moment they’d been having.

“He won’t leave me alone. Just when I thought I was finally rid of him.” She grumbled, grabbing a few bills and tossing them on the counter to tip the bartender, she started to  scan for possible escapes.

“You’re leaving?” Adrien stood when she did, ever the gentleman even when she could tell he was hurt by the sudden turn of events.

“I want nothing to do with him, and I want even less to make a scene.” She sighed, but she needed him to hear her. “Look, Adrien, I’m sorry. I don’t want to pull you into this. You didn’t ask, but I need you to know I don’t love him. I never actually loved him, it unfortunately just took what happened for me to realize it. I don’t know what the last year was about, whether I was having a late-bloomer’s rebellious stage or a quarter-life crisis, I’ll never know. What I do know, is I am done being a target of the paparazzi and I just want to go back to my life behind the scenes.” She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I made the point I meant to tonight or if it will be overshadowed by him showing up and following me, but I don’t care. I’m really glad I ran into you.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, smiling as a faint red stain left its mark on his face. “Bye.”

She turned, and just caught his face flash in determination from the corner of her eye. She only made it a few steps before she felt him grab her hand.

“Come on, I know the back way.”

 

~*~

 

“My ex,” she groaned, seeming to shrink to hide herself. “He found me.”

“He found you?” he repeated. He realized she called him her ex but if this guy was still trying to get in touch with her...clearly it wasn’t over for him, even if his recently very publicized actions would say otherwise. Adrien loathed to admit it, but it bothered him to think that there was still a man who thought he had a claim on Marinette’s affections, no matter how unfounded that claim might be.

“He won’t leave me alone. Just when I thought I was finally rid of him.” she was muttering to herself as she paid for her drink before Adrien even had the chance to wave her off. She stood up and Adrien was shocked out of his self-indulgent thoughts.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

“I want nothing to do with him, and I want even less to make a scene.” Her face contorted into a look of disgust.

“Look, Adrien,” she continued, directly addressing him now and looking into his eyes to make sure he understood. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pull you into this. You didn’t ask, but I need you to know I don’t love him. I never actually loved him, it unfortunately just took what happened for me to realize it. I don’t know what the last year was about, whether I was having a late-bloomer’s rebellious stage or a quarter-life crisis, I’ll never know. What I do know, is I am done being a target of the paparazzi and I just want to go back to my life behind the scenes.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tossing it to the other side and he was momentarily intoxicated as a waft of her scent hit him.  “I don’t know if I made the point I meant to tonight or if it will be overshadowed by him showing up and following me, but I don’t care. I’m really glad I ran into you.”

She kissed his cheek and he was breathing in her scent and talking in her words when and he came to two realizations. One: Marinette felt nothing for this man. Any anger he’d seen in recent photos was directed at the _situation_ he’d left her in. Marinette hated being the center of attention and that’s exactly what this guy had dropped her into.

And two: Adrien was really glad he ran into her, too.

“Bye.” Her voice floated towards him as she turned, and he rushed to flag down the bartender and tell her to keep his card on tab for the Italian for the rest of the night before he could chase after Marinette. No way was he letting her slip away from him again.

“Come on,” he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I know the back way.”

He started to guide her along the outside of the dance floor, keeping her out of her ex’s line of vision until they made it to the stage. He thanked Nino internally for dragging him more than once to help set up for gigs as he ushered Marinette through the backstage door and out towards the alleyway.

“So sneaky,” she smiled back at him once they were out in the cool night air again, still not dropping his hand as they stood, the muffled beat from the club seeming to pulsate through the stone exterior.  

“Nino,” he admitted. “I came to set up a gig with him here once. I have a strangely detailed knowledge of the backstage of most clubs in Paris, come to think of it.”

“Alya said you two were still close, but I’ve never seen you when I go to see him spin.”

“I usually don’t go. I went a lot during university, but that was back when I still had...a bit of a following and once they knew I was friends with the DJ, there was no escape.” He shrugged sheepishly, but Marinette laughed outright before covering her mouth and quickly glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one heard her.

“A _bit_ of a following, Adrien Agreste?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously when she turned back to look at him. “I think we can qualify it as a bit more than that. I should know, I was one of the fangirls, after all.”

“No,” he looked at her seriously, but she just smiled back, looking at him peculiarly.

“God, you really were clueless, weren’t you?” Her eyes were looking at him tenderly and he took a step closer to her.

“I wish I hadn’t been,” he replied, his voice hoarse as his hand came up to cup her cheek. _Was she telling the truth? Had they both spent all those years in a static two-way crush? How much time had they wasted because he was oblivious and she was scared?_

“Adrien?” she whispered, looking up at him and was about to say more when a shout from the mouth of the alley stopped her.

“I’ve found her!” A man shouted, and raised his camera to take a picture. Adrien was grateful in that moment for his years of experience with the vultures as it was instinctual for him to move, placing his back directly in the view of the photographers and blocking Marinette completely.

“Shit,” Marinette looked around, but the alley was a dead end. Then her eyes landed on the fire escape and she turned to look at him sweetly. “Feel like another rooftop dance in the moonlight?”

He chuckled as she pulled him towards the metal structure without waiting for his response. They moved in an easy partnership, him creating a foothold for her to propel herself up and pull down the ladder, just as they did all those years ago in lycee. He scuttled up first, and when she got a good grip on the ladder, he yanked it up, pulling her to safety and cutting off any would be followers. She grabbed his hand of her own accord this time, and they started to rush up the escape and to the roof. Peering back down, Adrien saw the first few paparazzi looking up and trying to spot them, but no more had joined, probably thinking there was no way that Marinette had taken to the roofs. No one climbed fire escapes in heels and a short dress. _Marinette wasn’t just anyone though_ , he thought as he watched her twist her hair up into a bun.

“What’s this?” He reached over and traced a delicate tattoo on the corner of her wrist, and she smiled down fondly at it.

“A ladybug. It’s good luck,” she looked up from where he was tracing the small drawing and her eyes were lost in a memory. “Alya dragged me out one night after I’d been stressing about a fellowship I applied for. I was supposed to hear back in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep. When she couldn’t stand my pacing anymore, she herded me out of the apartment,” Marinette laughed and he leaned closer to her magnetically. “It was the strangest, most mish-mashed night I’ve ever had. We went to sing karaoke, and then we had our fortunes told by a psychic named Madame Fu, and then somehow we ended up in a tattoo parlor.” She shrugged.

“And then you woke up the next morning and got the fellowship?” Adrien finished the story for her, but she barked a laugh at that.

“God no. I was denied, but it was fine. That was the year I got my first internship at a design house. And besides, I went out and was spontaneous with my best friend. I have people who love me, so even if I didn’t get the fellowship, I’m still pretty lucky.” She looked up at him. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“No, though if we’re going off a theme here, mine would probably be the opposite of yours. I’m definitely the unluckiest person I know.” He tapped his chin, pondering it for a moment. “Maybe a black cat?”

“I like black cats,” she nodded her approval, but then her eyes softened. “But I don’t think you’re unlucky. You have more people who love you than you realize.” She turned and started the twirl around the roof a bit.

 _Can you be one?_ he hoped, watching her shine in the moonlight with the lights of Paris twinkling behind her.

“But, come here, Kitty. I promised you a dance,” she held her hands out towards him, and Adrien could just make out a slow beat from the club beneath their feet.

“Whatever you say, M’Lady.” He walked over and happily pulled her into his arms and started to sway.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I never post anything that isn't already finished, but maybe I'm becoming predictable because one of you already guessed where this was going XD

Marinette didn’t know how long they stayed like that. The rhythm of the music from the club ebbed and flowed in an ever changing tempo, but they were lost in a music of their own making. Twirling and swaying across the rooftop, talking about everything and nothing, equally enamored by the harmony of their voices and the comfort of their silence. 

It was easy with Adrien in a way that Marinette had never experienced before. She was never grasping at what witty thing to say next, or trying to coddle his ego. They just  _ were _ together, and Marinette lost track of how many minutes she rested in his arms, content for it to stretch into eternity. 

When the dawn started to break over the horizon, she knew it was probably time to go. Even so, extracting herself from Adrien’s arms was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. She pulled back, but Adrien kept a firm hold on her waist.

“No,” he simply stated. 

“No?” she repeated, quirking an eyebrow at him and trying to supress the smile at the corner of her lips, pleased that he was as reluctant for the night to end as she was. 

“No,” he said again. “The night is not over, yet. Umm,” he looked off into the distance apparently looking for some inspiration until his eyes settled on their interlocked hands, and he looked back up at her triumphantly. “I have an idea. Let’s go!”

He pulled her back over towards the fire escape and helped her descend back to street level before they were off again, Adrien’s eyes scanning each block they passed.

“I know I saw one here, somewhere--Ah ha!” He pulled her down a narrow street, and she giggled at his childlike enthusiasm until they stopped in front of a neon-lit storefront and her jaw dropped.

“No,” she looked at him, but he had his chin raised in an obstinate posture. “Adrien! Really?”

He smirked at her and she felt her knees go a bit weak as he pulled her into the shop that was just about to close for the night and started to explain what he wanted to the artist.

“Where?” The woman looked at the example he was pointing to and was sizing up where it would look best. Adrien was doing the same, seeming to try and find somewhere easily hidden, he was a corporate businessman after all. Unfortunately, some people still couldn’t appreciate art unless it was overpriced and hanging in some museum. 

“On his butt,” Marinette piped up, having regained her senses from the dangerously addictive smirk he’d sent her way, and enjoyed a conspiratorial look with the tattoo artist. Adrien looked between them and smirked too.

“Oh no,” she giggled, watching as he walked towards the table, unbuttoning and slinging his dress pants low on his hips. The artist followed with a grin, and Marinette would be a liar if she said she didn’t enjoy the view too. 

 

“I can’t believe you did that,” she said about a half an hour later as they walked out of the tattoo parlor. 

“I can’t believe I did that either,” he looked a little shell-shocked, but freer than Marinette had ever remembered seeing him. She had a sneaking suspicion that while he very much might be a man now, there was still a small part of him that was stuck in the cycle of vying for his father’s approval. Marinette remembered their strained relationship well from lycee, but she prefered spontaneous Adrien better. The Adrien that  _ lived _ his life the way he wanted and didn’t censor his actions to fit into someone’s expectations of him.

“I like it,” she grabbed his hand again, and he squeezed it in thanks. She really did like it. A small black cat rested low on his right hip, seeming to prowl across the line right where his boxer briefs sat. Hopefully her blush wasn’t  _ too _ noticeable when he showed her the finished product of the cat walking along the top of his briefs and she thought about how much she’d like to see that little cat floating in mid-air instead. 

A roaring from Adrien’s stomach brought her back to her senses, and he grimaced over at her while she laughed.

“Breakfast?” she asked, honestly grateful for an excuse to drag out the night. If his responding smile was anything to go off of, she was relatively confident that he felt the same. She felt butterflies in her stomach, something she hadn’t experienced in years, realizing that she had spent practically the entire night with Adrien.  _ What was happening with them? _ She was still looking up at him as he smiled down at her. It kind of felt like a date, but it was the best date she’d been on in...ever. More than anything, it just felt right. Like she was meant to gallivant through the streets and over the rooftops of Paris with him.

“Come on, chaton,” She pulled him along with her and winked over her shoulder. “I know a great place. The chef is super particular about who she feeds, but I  _ might _ be able to get you in.” 

Her caught up and wrapped his arm around her waist instead, and she couldn’t help but lean into him as they ambled down the deserted street. 

 

~*~

 

He was smitten. That’s all there was to it. He’d had a crush on her in lycee, been fascinated by every shred of information Nino gleaned about her since university, and now he was finding out that he should have followed his instincts all those years ago and asked her out. The possibility that he could have spent the last eight years with this amazing woman if he hadn’t been such a coward was almost too great to fathom. He had impulsively wrapped his arm around her waist and she tucked herself happily into his side, her arm wrapping around his hip, careful not to lean on his newly sensitive skin there. It didn’t escape his notice that her ladybug-tattooed wrist lay just above his black cat, their lucky and unlucky symbols striking a balance. Maybe they were the perfect balance to each other, too. 

She led him towards a quaint neighborhood, where plane tree heavily crowded the cobbled street and older row homes huddled together. He was curious, but didn’t question her as she dragged him up three flights of stairs to the top apartment of one on the corner. Pulling out keys, she ushered him in, and he belatedly recognized that they were in Alya’s apartment.

“And who is this extremely elusive chef?” he quirked an eyebrow at her as she disappeared into Alya’s room and reemerged wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She tossed him a t shirt and reached for an apron.

“Yours truly,” she bowed slightly, but then smirked at him. “Do you think you could do better?”

“Absolutely not,” he answered immediately, meaning more than just her cooking skills and she blushed. When he shrugged out of his dress shirt and into the slightly too small t shirt, he saw the blush deepen when she caught a glimpse of his bare chest and he smiled.

“Good!” She spun towards him and dropped another apron over his head. “Get to chopping then, sous chef. We’re going to make the best omelets you’ve ever had.”

For the next half hour, they maneuvered around each other expertly in Alya’s small kitchen, Brushing against each other in closeness that was both necessary and deliberate and tossing more vegetables into each other’s mouths than actually made it into the omelet, they ended up eating their concoction directly out of the frying pan. 

It was familiar and comfortable and Adrien’s heart felt lighter just being in her presence. The breakfast was all but gone when she’d laughed at something he’d said and he couldn’t take it anymore. He watched her throw her head back in joy, her hair flopping slightly to the side in its bun and tendrils of hair escaping its confines. She’d taken off her makeup when they’d gotten home, and he was struck by the fact that there was no version of her that was not beautiful to him. 

He stepped forward and kissed her, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back while the other cradled her cheek. It was simple kiss, sweet. Questioning more than demanding, but then Marinette dug her fingers into his hair, scratching the back of his scalp and sending shivers down his spine. He pulled her closer, melding their bodies into one as she started to guide them backwards into the living room. Stumbling, they fell, ending up a tangle of limbs on the couch. He grunted, having turned his body to take most of the impact and she giggled, resting her head in the center of his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, permanently dislodging the bun and she smiled softly back up at him.

“I’m sorry it took me eight years,” he murmured softly. “Eleven,” he amended, realizing this had been a long time coming--since that first day of lycee when they were fifteen.

“Me too,” she reached up and brushed a thumb across his cheekbone, her fingers as light as her words were heavy.

He kissed her again and vowed never to stop. 


	4. Part 4

His first day back, Adrien yawned, still jetlagged from the trip, despite the one day of recuperation he’d insisted on before even thinking about coming within a kilometer of the office. Still, after two weddings in two different countries and only a few days of a true honeymoon, Adrien would really rather be sleeping in his new wife’s arms right now.

He looked down at his wedding ring and smiled at that thought. _His wife_.

It’d been a year since the night he found her again, and he stayed true to his vow of never letting go. Although, if Alya’s screams of joy later that morning when she found them were any indication, their friends wouldn’t let them be a missed connection again either, even if he had been stupid enough to try. So after twelve years of knowing her, he finally got down on one knee and made it official. Thank god she’d said yes.

He looked down at his watch. He just had to get through this photoshoot and then he could go home. He’d planned to take the rest of the week off, but his father was on a business trip, and the new celebrity endorsement they’d snatched required at least one of the owners to make an appearance. Adrien had been promised that as soon as he shook a hand and made a few suggestions about frames, he would be free to go. He was holding Natalie to that promise.

Walking over to the craft table, he grabbed another cup of coffee and it was there that he discovered just  _who_ the celebrity endorsement was. It was really his own fault. Natalie had sent him all the information, but he’d had more important things to do than study up on whatever yuppie would be wearing their new yacht-inspired brand. Looking over at the celebrity now, he was glad he hadn’t. With warning, Adrien might have talked himself out of what he did next, and he would have been denied the look on the man’s face.

Adrien didn’t even like thinking his name, that’s how unimportant he was. After the night Adrien and Marinette had escaped him at the club, Marinette saw him once more. About a month later, after public opinion had decidedly turned against him and he ‘realized’ the error of his ways, he found Marinette in a cafe with Alya. Adrien had never watched the clip of the interaction that some paparazzi had snagged because Marinette had asked him not to, but Alya assured him that Marinette made it _quite_ clear that she felt nothing but pity for the man and wanted nothing more than to never see his face again. They’d been blessedly left alone ever since.

His movie offers had been few and far between for a while, not many willing to be associated with such a volatile personality that had hurt Paris’ princess. That was another development. Marinette had become somewhat of a people’s hero for a while, the video of her telling Ethan off went viral and she was applauded for standing up to an actor who thought he could take whatever he wanted without consequences. Luckily for her, she was only “Paris’ princess” for a few weeks before she was able to fade back into the shadows. The actor had eventually rebuilt his career after a year hiatus ‘to find himself and work through some personal flaws.’ Adrien rolled his eyes at the cookie-cutter public statement, but then an actor with a pretty face was always eventually forgiven. Adrien hadn’t forgiven him, he’d just forgotten about him. But... since he was here, Adrien did have something to say.

He walked over to the actor, who was picking at a croissant.

“Ethan,” he called his name and the man looked up, instinctively reaching to shake Adrien’s outstretched hand. “Adrien Agreste. I just wanted to thank you.”

“Oh,” Ethan plastered on a practiced smile that Adrien remembered well from his modeling days, although he hoped he never looked like such a douche giving it. “I’m happy to represent the line,” Ethan continued, like he was doing a favor for Adrien’s company and not like they were paying him well for his services.

“Oh, not that,” Adrien extracted his hand from Ethan’s. “I wanted to thank you for being an idiot. You remember that cheating scandal you caused for yourself last year? Of course,” Adrien laughed, lightly facepalming. “Of course you remember. Well, that girl you cheated on? Remember, the one that was kind and clever and beautiful and way out of your league? Well, I married her last month.” Adrien held up his hand and pointed to his ring with a smile. “So thanks,” he continued, patting Ethan congenially on the shoulder. “Thanks for being an idiot and letting her go, because I know I never will.”

He smiled down into Ethan’s shocked expression before turning to walk out the door. Adrien saluted Natalie as he went by, and he saw a smirk on the woman’s face indicating that she had in fact overheard his conversation and while officially thought it was unprofessional, personally approved.

He walked outside, smile bright on his face as he hailed a cab and took it home. To his wife. _To Marinette_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! To stay UTD on new stories, follow me on tumblr: unforgetabELLE


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